


in my room, just dancing up on the ceiling

by Zoadgo



Series: Kinktober 2018 [16]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Cuddling, F/M, Gentle Sex, Pregnancy, soft smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 04:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16319405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoadgo/pseuds/Zoadgo
Summary: So, there’s not a whole lot to do in space. Especially when you’re whole job is make sure the planet is still there and everyone is still sleeping. Which is why Monty and Harper, the only two conscious people on the entire ship, end up doing each other. A lot. It’s not like they wouldn’t have even if they had been busy, but, well, they have to pass the time somehow, right?Those bouts of near-marathon like sex sessions gradually calmed into lazy fucks, and sometimes entire days where they did nothing other than cuddle. Those days got more and more frequent as Harper’s belly grew; not because her sex drive was any less, mind you, but Monty gets so distracted talking to their unborn child and petting her stomach that she doesn’t have the heart to tell him to stop being sweet and start practicing for child number two.





	in my room, just dancing up on the ceiling

**Author's Note:**

> [title song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZUMtNVAvkUQ)
> 
> Had an anonymous request for Harper and Monty for **Body Worship** and to quote my beta, [Etra](http://coldsaturn.tumblr.com), "Brb need to punch a wall to feel manly again ".
> 
> [tumblr](http://jonnmurphy.tumblr.com)

So, there’s not a whole lot to do in space. Especially when you’re whole job is make sure the planet is still there and everyone is still sleeping. Which is why Monty and Harper, the only two conscious people on the entire ship, end up doing each other. A lot. It’s not like they wouldn’t have even if they had been busy, but, well, they have to pass the time somehow, right?

Those bouts of near-marathon like sex sessions gradually calmed into lazy fucks, and sometimes entire days where they did nothing other than cuddle. Those days got more and more frequent as Harper’s belly grew; not because her sex drive was any less, mind you, but Monty gets so distracted talking to their unborn child and petting her stomach that she doesn’t have the heart to tell him to stop being sweet and start practicing for child number two.

Invariably, they fall asleep tangled together. Sometimes Monty leaves before she wakes up, and Harper eventually tracks him down to find him frowning at one of the screens in the bridge, but more frequently he lays with her until she wakes up. It’s one of the greatest feelings in the world, to wake up with her husband - because screw laws, they haven’t been relevant in decades anyway, Harper thinks of him as her husband - wrapped around her, and her baby sitting heavy against her spine.

This morning is one of those. Harper wakes slowly, warmth from Monty’s arms around her seeping into her and making her feel so incredibly loved and wanted. Before Monty, it had been too long since she felt like this. How hard did she try to be wanted, to be needed like this? Joining the gunners, hanging around everyone who seemed to be at the core of everything happening. Desperation not to be forgotten, like her father, fading into oblivion.

But here, when it’s just the two of them - well, three, the child in her womb kicks slightly as if to remind her not to forget them - Harper has everything she ever wanted. Not necessarily being the center of attention, not glory and fame, just simply being loved. She smiles to herself, expression sleepy and doubtlessly ridiculous, snuggling into Monty’s chest.

“Morning,” she mumbles happily, eyes still closed. She wants to take her time with waking up; after so many years of jumping out of bed because someone’s trying to kill them again, Harper appreciates laziness.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Monty kisses her hair as he says the words. It feels like a warm summer’s day, the kind she never really got to enjoy. More than that, it’s like the first time they stepped foot on the Earth, breathing unfiltered air and living without fear for one single, blessed day.

With a happy hum, Monty starts petting her stomach, as seems to be his favourite thing to do these days. Harper’s not sure if she’s actually more sensitive there or if it’s just a side effect of how much she thinks about it, but her belly tingles where he touches it. It’s all around a pleasant feeling, so she shifts, pushing lightly into the touch.

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” Monty says out of nowhere, always up front and so clear in his praise of her. Harper laughs, pure happiness bubbling out of her.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she teases, turning her head towards him and finally opening her eyes. Monty smiles like the stars around them, shining and beautiful, and Harper can’t help but lean in to kiss him. A gentle, slow press of their lips, as dopey and relaxed as they both are just after waking up.

Harper sighs as she pulls away from him, a soft breath of air past her lips. Monty’s hands never stop moving on her stomach, soothing both her and the baby within her. Of course, their child isn’t totally still, but they always seem to be more sedate when Monty’s hands are there, just inches away from him. Soon enough, they’ll be able to hold them in their arms. The thought is nearly enough to make Harper tear up. All the times they almost died are definitely worth it, if in the end they get to have this.

Instead of focusing on such emotional things, Harper rolls over onto her side, back towards Monty. He responds in a heartbeat, curling around her. One of his arms wraps around her, nestled between her breasts and the swell of her stomach, while his other hand rubs soothing patterns underneath the bump. There’s no clothing between them; it seems silly to sleep with clothes on in environmentally controlled rooms, especially when they spend a large portion of their time getting into each other’s pants.

Harper snuggles back into him, molding her spine to his chest to the point that she can feel his every breath as if it’s her own. Monty makes a happy noise that vibrates against her back, causing a lovely shiver to roll through her. A part of her wants to rut back against him, a slight tickle between her thighs the first sign of slowly wakening arousal, but most of her is more than content to melt into his touch.

Monty doesn’t seem to feel any of the vague urgency she does, his hands slow upon her skin. But he does show some kind of interest, the arm than had been holding her below her breasts releasing so that he can brush his thumb along her ribs. Harper hums, leaning her head back onto his shoulder, shifting to expose more skin to him rather than being curled around her own belly.

When she shifts, Harper feels evidence of Monty’s interest, half hard against her thigh. It makes her thrilled beyond words, that even heavily pregnant and not trying she can still have this effect on him. For a long time, she hadn’t been certain if he liked her. Obviously not after they had slept together the first time, although even that could be chalked up to the end of the world. Now, there’s no doubt in her mind. Monty loves her, every bit of her, and she feels the same about him. It’s why they had decided to stay awake together, anyway. There was no question about it, anything either one of them did was what both of them would do.

“How did I get so lucky?” Harper asks aloud, and she feels Monty’s answering chuckle as much as she hears it.

“You know, most people don’t think an algae farmer is exactly a catch.” Monty presses a kiss to her neck, and Harper sighs.

“Well, most people are crazy, then. I think you’re the greatest catch on Earth.” 

It had taken Harper a while to be as comfortable with praising Monty as he was with her. She was afraid that if she showed how much she cared, he might reject some or all of those feelings. Not that he ever did anything to warrant that, but the rejection she experienced so much among the delinquents had haunted her for a long time.

Monty’s touch shifts, one hand still cupping her belly, but the other moving to caress her heavy breasts. They had swollen a lot during her pregnancy, and now, so close to term, they’re sensitive enough that just the gentle squeezes he gives them is enough to stoke a fire within her. Not a raging bonfire, but something like a small candle; peaceful, but burning nonetheless.

“Greatest catch on a dead planet?” Monty points out, and Harper rolls her eyes, still smiling the whole time.

“Oh hush with your logic, you know what I mean.”

Monty laughs again before dropping his mouth to her shoulder, kissing just over the joint there. He brushes the pad of a thumb over her nipples, and Harper catches a sharp breath at that. He doesn’t toy with them too much, for which she’s grateful; although she knows lactation is totally normal and Monty doesn’t find it weird, she’s still mortified whenever it happens.

“We both got pretty lucky, didn’t we?” Monty mutters against her skin, and Harper nods. She places one of her hands over the back of Monty’s on her stomach, feeling entirely complete in a way she never has. 

For a moment, one of those quiet, somber airs falls over them, the feeling of everything they’ve lost, and everything they chose to set aside. Monty’s hands still on her, and he simply breathes against her skin. It’s hard sometimes, being through everything they’ve been through, even with how happy they are now. Because all they have is each other, and all both of them have ever wanted is to make others happy.

The mood is broken by an insistent kick within Harper, startling a laugh out of both of them. Monty makes little shushing noises as he resumes his stroking of her stomach, and their baby calms down with only a few more twitches and only mild discomfort to Harper. 

“Look at you, growing a whole person inside of you. You’re so beautiful,” Monty says, dropping both hands to her belly and rubbing the sides of it. Harper can’t help the light blush that warms her cheeks at the open affection in his voice.

“You’d say that if I was ninety years old and wrinkled up like a prune,” Harpe teases. Monty nods against her skin, his hands shifting down to rub her hips. A soft breath escapes her as Harper moves into the touch, soft and barely even sexual. If it weren’t for the hardness growing against her, Harper might be embarrassed, thinking that she’s misreading his touch.

“I would, and it would be true. You’re gorgeous inside and out, Harper.”

When Monty says the words, Harper can’t help but believe him. He’s never lied to her, not that she knows about, and everything he’s ever promised her has come true in some fashion. They even got their peace, in the end, just in space rather than in a bunker.

His hands move slowly over her, gently mapping the skin. There’s no more calluses on the palms and fingers, they’ve had long enough without struggle. Even maintaining the ship isn’t that hard. His touch is soft and welcome as it moves to her thighs, massaging the flesh there. It looks like he’s not going to get distracted today, and Harper is delighted.

“Monty,” she breathes his name on a shaky sigh as one of his hands curls inwards. She shifts to let him between her thighs, where she aches for him.

She knew she was wet from the first moment he laid hands on her, but she didn’t quite realize how wet until Monty’s fingers drag through her folds, sliding oh so smoothly. Harper whimpers at the contact, wriggling slightly when he does it again. It’s not anything that could get her off, but it feels good. Monty cups her mound, laying his fingers along the slick line of her to continue his leisurely exploration. 

His other hand he returns to that no man’s land between the swell of her breasts and that of her belly. He strokes her ribs and presses a kiss behind her ear, breath tickling her and almost making her giggle. 

“I have such a pretty wife,” Monty praises, dipping his middle finger down and curling it inside of her for just a moment. His actions and his words have equal effect on Harper, a warm glow curling deep inside her ribcage.

‘I thought you didn’t care about being called ‘husband’ and ‘wife’?” Harper points out, biting back a desperate noise when his finger sinks inside of her again.

“I don’t. But you do, and I care about you,” Monty admits.

Harper feels tears welling in her eyes, pure joy spilling forth. She blinks them away, pressing back into Monty.

“I love you so much,” she says, words desperately heartfelt. Monty kisses behind her ear again, and she can feel his lips curl into a smile.

“I love you too.”

Harper luxuriates in his attention, drinking up every movement on her skin, every touch within her. She’s convinced she could stay like this forever, wrapped up in his love and full of his baby, and if she asked, she knows Monty would let her. In fact, if she doesn’t make a move, he’d probably be more than happy to continue simply focusing on her and her pleasure, ignoring his own entirely.

That won’t do in the slightest.

With some effort, Harper reaches behind herself and grips Monty’s erection, guiding him towards where she aches for him, feeling hollow in a way that his finger isn’t near enough to satisfy. Monty reads her intent in a heartbeat and obeys her silent edict, spreading her open with his fingers and sinking into her in one long, slow thrust.

Harper hums in deep contentment when he bottoms out within her, rolling her head back on his shoulder. Both of Monty’s hands return to her stomach, paying dear attention to the outcome of their affection. He moves within her slowly, no urgent thrusting or slapping of flesh, simply the languid roll of his hips building a lazy pleasure within Harper’s core.

It’s indulgent, their bodies rocking and grinding together like they have all the time in the world. Which, really, they do. If they wanted to take hours, lazily enjoying each other in the most intimate way possible, they could. Harper moans low in her throat at the thought of it. No matter how many times they sleep together, she still finds a deep, soul fulfilling contentment in it.

Harper runs one of her hands along Monty’s forearm, needing to feel him in every way that she can. Monty moves that hand to cup her breast, and Harper threads her fingers with his, guiding his touch. Away from the nipples, too over sensitive for the sort of relaxed embrace they’re sharing, simply rolling and massaging their heavy weight. She sighs into the touch, rolling her hips back against them.

In the end, it doesn’t take them hours, but neither of them rush their climax. When Harper’s crests, it’s a slow wave of pleasure, a deep flood of heat that has her grinning, Monty’s breath flooding hot over her shoulder. He moans her name when he comes undone inside of her, and Harper feels truly loved. 

“I love you,” she voices her feelings aloud. “And I love that you love me.”

Monty laughs against her skin, pulling her into a tight hug, “Right back at you.”


End file.
